Joyride
by Chocolate Boy
Summary: Poinsettia had a death wish that could never be fulfilled. The Joker wanted to douse Gotham in flames. When the pair become allies they go on a roller coaster of thrills and chaos. But there was a pesky Bat trying to prevent at every turn. Not to mention a maniacal girlfriend who thought when it came to destruction, three was a crowd. Joker/OC
1. La Petite Mort

Thank you so much for reading. Reviews are always welcome!

 **Joyride**

La Petite Mort

The scrutiny radiating from his blue eyes made the gun in my hand feel heavier than I once remembered. He was studying me from top to bottom and if he could've, inside out too. This wasn't my first time shooting a target so the metaphorical pressure I was feeling was all a mental facade. Logic always trumped emotions. The pounding of my heart was because my brain had tricked itself and as a result released too much norepinephrine and shocked the shit out of my body. But if my heart continued pounding at the rate it was, I was gonna take the knife out the left back pocket of my jeans and see how long I could survive watching myself as I carved it out.

"What's the matter, kiddo?" He stalked around me, graceful like a fox. The pads of his fingers traced the nape of my neck slowly. Methodically. Leaning in towards me, the heat of his breath hit my ear. "Nervous?"

"You're distracting me. Purposefully," I said and it wasn't total bullshit. The Joker's presence was smothering. If I wanted to breathe, I had to let his corruption into my lungs. "You smell like a fresh puddle of gasoline."

I would've lit a match and watched the flames of his body illuminate the room if I could've. It could take up to seven hours for a body to burn fully, but he was lithe and composed of lean muscle so for a body like his to turn to chimney shit it wouldn't have taken more than three hours. Two hours... two and a half, tops!

Steadying my arm, I finally managed to shoot my first shot. And then another. And then another. I completely went gung ho with the trigger, blasting everything in sight until the chamber was empty.

"Here comes the big reveal. The score that settles it all." Pushing me out his way, he rubbed his hands together and leaned forward until the tip of his nose touched the screen in front of him. "Lay it on me."

Stale hues of red and blue thinly painted the clown's face. Being that close to all that radiation and emission was gonna seriously blind him with time, but I wasn't going to protest. My triumph over him would scorch his retinas forever. It would haunt his nights whilst he slept beside Harley.

I regained my position beside him, nudging him with my hip to edge him away from the arcade machine. Gold colored numbers sparkled on the screen and two of us watched silently as my score tabulated. Tonight's classic game of choice was Gun Point, where accuracy and quick reflexes sorted the winners from the whiners.

My heart shrank two sizes too small when my score was revealed. It didn't take long for my sadness to brew into a strong anger. I'd been cheated, and I let those feelings known through my violence. The heel of my shoe smashed into the machines cheap aluminum siding, making a divet just about the size of the jokers fat head, who celebrated his victory with wheezes and cackles that turned giants into Napoleans. I jabbed Gun point's faux gun into his forehead. Right against that etcher sketch tattoo that he thought was so cute.

"Pew! Pew!" I whispered, squeezing the imitation trigger.

I felt the pressure of his forehead pushing back into the muzzle. "What a coinkydink," he said, reaching into the inside pocket of his purple blazer. Out popped a revolver tarnished with rusty blood that he overlooked to clean. "Daddy's got one too."

"It's so big." My heart leaped with joy. "You gonna use that thing or are you shooting blanks?"

The gun thundered as he fired a single shot. The acrid smell of charred plastic wafted in plume of smoke from the revolver. Joker smiled pleasantly and vacuumed the chemtrails through his flaring nostrils. He left my side, choosing to sit himself on the air hockey table with Morton the Moose.

Morton was strapped with cable rope and had been after Joker and I broke into the place. He was the one to receive the bullet. It ravaged through the felt costume, but I wasn't sure if it made it through the victim's skull.

"He alive?" I asked, standing on my tiptoes to peak over the Joker's shoulder.

He gave Morton a hard punch to the stomach and it elicited a groan from the man. Joker's smile soured. "Performance anxiety," he said before unleashing two more bullets into the moose.

"No fair!" I screamed, racing towards him. I yanked his arm to my chest and nuzzled the deep between my lungs. "Stop wasting those precious diamonds on Bullwinkle. It's my turn."

My feet jounced me up and down and I was unable to contain the excitement inside of me. I'd become a rambunctious toddler. If death were heroin then the Joker was the only supplier worth buying from. It had been a while since he offed me and I needed my fix.

"Patience, princess."

"Patience is for fools."

"I need a favor from you," he said. "A favor only you can provide. It would leave me in your eternal debt."

"Is it dangerous?" I caressed his narrow shoulders.

"Perilous."

Gripping the ends of his hair, I tugged hard enough to make the average man grunt in pain. "Foolish?"

Lips twisting upward into a snarl, a low hiss slithered from between his gleaming grill. "Absolutely."

I held his face. "Chance of death?"

"It'll make you scream."

Someone stick a fork in me! "Done!"

He stood, withdrawing his gun from my chest. My childish wails were muffled as he snatched my jaw in his hands and I ached beneath his touch. My jaw burned in agony. My head was dizzy with pleasure. The arcade became a carousel, blending colors and objects together in a swirl of exhilaration. I held my breath, awaiting his next move.

"On your knees," he ordered and willingly, I obliged. Opening my mouth, I fit as much of the revolver into my mouth as I could. It tasted like forgotten coins cemented at the bottom of a wishing fountain, but I rolled my tongue over the barrel, making sure to clean every bit of blood on it just for him. The hammer clicked and my eyes closed in excitement. Would I die? Would he go through with it? Would there be a heaven to await me? I hoped for Hell. His finger coiled around the trigger. "Bon appétit."


	2. Resurrection

**Thank you so much for the response everyone. I wasn't quite sure what the response to Posie would be like since she's a little out there. Reviews and critiques are always welcome.**

 **Sidenote: Trigger warning for anyone reading who may suffer from depression or suicidal thoughts. Throughout the story my OC heavily mentions wanting to die and/or suffer and I don't want to blindside anyone. Suicide isn't something I take lightly nor do I condone it. And if anyone needs a listening ear I'm always here.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

Resurrection

My arms clawed at the intangible as if permanent death were just beyond my grasp. I flailed upright, eyes watering as light seared into my vision. A once monochrome interior slowly became tinged with rich colors of champagne and deep oak. Between my ears was a loud shriek, a wail that could only be likened to pigs at slaughter. That too dissipated and was replaced by the steady bass of rap music reverberating off my skin like a throaty hum.

"That's one helluva magic trick," said Johnny Frost. He stood in the corner of what I finally realized was the VIP section of the Joker's club. He clapped his hands ceremoniously. "Never gets old."

My shoulders erupted in pain as two hands crashed upon them. Each finger was garbed in ornate rings like they were royalty. "And by a sleep to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is air to. Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished." Heavily the Joker held me in his hands like I was his possession. A possession he'd be damned to let anyone else play with. "My girl here is a beautiful disaster. A tragedy so exquisite it's borderline Shakespearean."

Johnny played through his beard. "Either you're extremely lucky, lady, or did some fucked up shit and gotta pay for it."

To be honest I didn't know why I was the way I was. Nobody questioned why Superman could fly or why he could shoot lasers from his eyes. I didn't feel the need to delve into ramifications. It was what it was.

"Atropos herself couldn't find a pair of scissors sharp enough to snip her lifeline." Hopping over his couch, Joker sat directly beside me, hands motioning like a conductor whilst he spoke. "Death could ride in here sitting atop his pale horse and she wouldn't bat a lash."

"Is that a burger?" I asked, scrambling towards the plate of food sitting on the coffee table before me. Shoving fistfuls of food into my mouth, I felt actual tears swelling in their ducts. Eating would be one of the only things I'd miss once I finally stayed dead. Grilled cheese? More like, yes please!

"I'm sure you're a little jetlagged from your trip," Joker said. "Regain ya strength. I need you at peak condition tomorrow."

"Let me guess," I said, dipping my french fry into ketchup over and over. "That's when I do my favor for you."

"A favor entails there'd be a debt to be paid. This ain't one of those times." I frowned. He knew he called it a favor and wanted to be a dick about it. "This transcends appeasing me. This is a test of character." He slid my plate of food from me and went so far as to smash it to the ground when he saw me reach for it. "The company I keep has to be company worth keeping. You didn't think I could let you play with me without seeing what you were made of did you?"

"You just literally blew my brains out. You know better than anyone what I'm made of."

Johnny tried to assuage the situation. "He does it to all of us, Poinsettia. Think nothin' of it."

"You're all his personal asshole lickers. It's your job, not mine." I sneered. I didn't have to do a goddamn thing unless I wanted to. I didn't have to prove myself to anyone. "If you don't think I'm trustworthy then you can suck a fat one. This ain't even your idea anyway. This has Harley written all over it."

It was when he stood that I realized I'd already rose to my feet in an attempt of dominance. He stepped in my direction, closing the distance between us and forcing me to become entangled in the anger he exuded. It radiated off him like cheap cologne. "Repeat that for me one. More. Time."

If he wanted someone to fear him, I wasn't the right person for the role. "The part where I told you to choke on a dick? The part where I questioned your intelligence? _Oooooooooooooh_ I know what you mean now. You want me to repeat that you're doing Harley's bidding. She's the actual king of Gotham and you're her lovesick puppy. Joke's on you." I laughed. "Harley har har har!"

"She really knows how to get my blood pumping, guys." He snatched me into his grasp. The roots of my hair I could feel ripping out by his grip against the back of my head. "I could sink my nails into the back of your skull and scrape out your brains until it was hollow. Then use it as a bowl each morning for my fruit loops."

"Bullshit," I spat. "Bare minimum my skull is worth a bowl of Lucky Charms."

My back hit the glass wall behind me so hard I heard it crunch with a crack. I smacked him and my fingers stung as soon as I did. Every metacarpal buzzed with pain, but it felt so good to put him in his place. His henchman didn't dare move and instead watched the fight. I think they knew that once someone other than the Joker laid a hand on me they were as good as dead.

He pulled the collar of my shirt so hard our noses touched. His icy eyes were consumed in flames and I'm sure he was conjuring every possible way he'd torture me. I pushed him away only to have my body fly along with his because he refused to let me go. We were attached at the hip and I weighed nothing to him by how my body flapped everywhere like a waterless fish. My head smacked the hardwood floor when he threw me to the ground. Someone flicked off the lightswitch in my head because darkness temporarily swept me away.

"Aww, you're upset," I mocked, giving in to the dizziness that ebbed over me. "Stick a knife in me then."

"Keep it up." He covered my body with his before I could leap to my feet. I writhed beneath him for freedom to no avail. He dipped lower onto me, sinking me further down, intertwining me into his heat. The tips of his green hair stroked my face and I balled my fist to keep from clawing at his back. "I'll fill you with more than just a knife."

"Puddin', have you seen my razorblade?" In walked Harley Quinn without a care in the world. Her steps were light and rhythmic as she bounced over shards of glass and overturned furniture. Neither one of us moved, but I noticed the Joker's eyes leave mine to watch his girlfriend's every action, following her like a fixated dog. She headed to the coffee table, picking up the item she'd been looking for. "Here it is. Them scumbags don't know how to keep their hands to themselves. It's like they want me to take their fingers from em."

Out she went.

I flipped Joker on his back, taking the upper hand. Harley caught him off guard and I wasn't gonna make the same mistake. Though my shirt was ruined because of him! My V-neck dipped so low that nothing was left to the imagination. Quickly I took the hand I originally intended to strangled him with and gathered the collar of my shirt, but to my chagrin it was too late. The Joker noticed, feasting on the sight of my breasts with a wiry smile on his face. I wanted to drink a cup of cyanide and claw my face off.

He dug into my waist and held me onto him. "Modesty ain't ya style."

The door opening again was the only thing to rip him from his stupor.

"Posie, you're back!" This time Harley only extended her head into the room. Her smile was cheeky and could illuminate all of Gotham. "Maybe you should put an icepack on ya head or somethin'. Or you can use the shower upstairs, you got a little blood right here." She pointed to her temple. "And here." Then her neck. "Kind of just everywhere."

"Marshmallow finally had puppies!" I said. "About time."

"Can we have one, J," she asked. "I gotta have one. They're too cute not to have."

"As many as you like."

She left him with a kiss floating in the air. "Muah!"

I'd never have what they had. Something real. Something that was consuming. I'd live forever alone. Sighing, I gave in and waved my tiny white flag. "What is it that you want."

"What is it that all cruel monsters are without?" He lifted himself up and I slid onto his lap. "A heart."

"Whose heart?"

I caught my reflection in his metal teeth. Truly I looked like I'd come back from hell with a vengeance.

"Bruce Wayne's."


	3. Bewitching

**Hopefully you all don't mind a little Bruce Wayne interaction. Have no fear the joker will make his return sometime soon. In regards to a question a reviewer posed, this is definitely a slow burn Joker/OC story but the more I get into it I think it's going to be a bit of a wicked love triangle. I know that won't please everyone, but I hope you all still give it an open mind. The Joker _is_ with Harley, so why shouldn't Posie have a little fun of her own with Gotham's most eligible bachelor? **

**Reviews are always welcome. Thanks for reading.**

Bewitching

Wayne Manor was surreal and a real pain in the ass to find. You had to head thirty miles north of Gotham, across treacherous waters, along a winding road, and through a grove that swallowed you whole. The castle was hidden and rightfully so. Bruce Wayne's home belonged in the country side of France, overlooking blooming fields lavender and the seine river, not a city where the rats were better fed than the homeless.

A gust of wind billowed through rustling grass, conjuring the warm scent of Autumn. Heavy clouds loomed the greying sky and with every breath I drew I could taste the rain soon to come. I stood at the entrance of the home, taking a minute to let the magic nestle onto me like rays of sunlight. I rang the small buzzer of a doorbell and began the performance I'd rehearsed in the car ride on the way here once an elderly man answered.

"Good morning, sir! I have an order of flowers here for Bruce Wayne." I smiled, tapping the clipboard in my hands. "I need him to sign off for this."

The older gentleman, who I only assumed was a butler, adjusted his thick glasses. His face was withered from time, maybe stress was a key factor. Perhaps it was too early in the morning and grandpa hadn't enjoyed a cup of coffee just yet. "Master Wayne hasn't ordered an arrangement of flowers."

Cocking my head to the side, I shrugged a shoulder apathetically. "Maybe he just didn't tell you."

"I must say this is one of the more unsophisticated attempts I've seen from a tabloid reporter."

"Sir, I'm merely doing my job and if you have any further questions I can put you on the phone with my employer." If he tried to go through with that, I'd fake like I'd lost my phone. "But I cannot leave until Bruce Wayne _himself_ signs for these." I nodded behind me to the box filled with bouquets of marigolds.

"What would anyone need that many flowers for?"

"I don't know. Casserole dinner banquet perhaps?" I reasoned. "Ask Master Wayne."

"Who do you work for, Miss?"

"Amelia Caldwell of Gotham Blossoms." I began the schpiel I memorized. "The way she crafts her bouquets is nothing short masterful. Each flower is scrutinized from stem to petal. She harvests flowers from a close gardening partner where she takes notes of each flower during photosynthesis. She only plucks the strongest of flowers. If possible she'd know her plant's mitochrondria. That's how in love with her craft she is."

My recital went unhitched. There was no way he could deny me now.

His face was hollow, vacant, not a trace of emotion riddling it. Was he a sociopath? That would've been fun. "Send my apologies to Miss Caldwell."

I pleaded for him to wait and that he was making a mistake, but the old bat didn't pay me an ounce of attention after he made his decision. I curled my fingers around the side of the door, stopping him from continuing his rude gesture. He lowered his eyes into slits in a silent threat. If he was gonna slam me out, he'd take my extremities with him.

"Perhaps the cops would be a necessary referee in our affair."

Call them! His goddamn house may as well have been in the hundred acre woods along with Christopher Robin. The moment he tried, I'd cut his throat.

"That won't be necessary, Alfred." Finally Bruce Wayne made his appearance. Through the crack of the door I could barely see jagged shadow of his figure. "The woman merely wants to do her job. Let's not give her more trouble than we already have."

"As you wish." Alfred frowned, widening the door. That's right asshole, know your place. He turned on his heels. "This is your problem now."

I'd never seen a house so magnificent. A real life Disney home. Marble floors that would be a bitch to clean blood stains from. A stairwell long enough where if you misstepped then surely your neck would snap on the fall down. The walls were drenched in artwork that had survived at least five of Alfred's lives stacked together. I took a gentle step inside, careful and cautious like a sinner entering the house of the Lord.

"Will I burst into flames?" I wondered. "Because that would be doooooope."

Bruce's eyebrows wriggled and he cocked his head in confusion. His stare was transfixed on me, and I grinned from ear to ear upon his inspection. He stood in only a silk robe and loose sweats, piecing me together like I was as intricate as the galaxies. An unfathomable anomaly worth discovering.

I cleared my throat. If he were trying to stare into my soul I didn't want to see how he'd react to learn I didn't have one. "So I need you to sign this." Tossing him the clipboard that I'd printed a fake customer delivery slip on, I didn't bother with the schtick anymore. "The flowers are outside."

This was the home of _Bruce fucking Wayne._ I was a disney princess. Scratch that. I was a queen! A wretched, loathsome queen who collected the heads of all those who dare question my ruling. Fascination guided me action and I traipsed just a little up the never ending stairwell. The enchantment was too much for me. I opened my arms freely, lifted my chin to the high beam ceiling, and let the song in my spirit take flight into the open home.

"You chose the wrong profession. You're singing is better than your service," Bruce laughed. Immediately I covered my mouth and my great rendition of Hotline Bling was silenced. "What other areas are you talented?"

Back to reality I drifted until I was firmly planted back onto the ground, helping Bruce with the box of flowers in his arms. He held the front end of the box and I was forced to follow his lead as he guided me backwards. "I got carried away, my bad," I said. "Your house is just so overwhelming."

"When you've lived here your whole life the allure wears off. The foyer, the bedrooms, the dining hall it's meaningless. It's all empty."

"Isn't everything? Nothing is one hundred percent. We search and scrounge the earth for something holistic, something to validate our significance to no avail. Only in death does that happen."

Shit. He was staring at me with that puzzled look again. "I was merely talking about furniture," he chortled.

"Oh." I frowned. I'd stuck my foot in my mouth enough to make it look foolish, but not enough to choke on it. "Me too."

We entered his kitchen and sat box along a onyx colored counter. I sniffed the air. Rich people's houses smelled like mopped floors and tangerines.

"I think we did good." I raised my hand. "High five."

It took him a minute, but he finally obliged and slapped his huge palm against my own. My hands stung although I'm sure he didn't mean to be so heavy. He had the type of hands that could choke you out in a second.

"What's you're name?" he asked.

I answered truthfully. Something told me he'd know if I were lying. "Poinsettia Helms."

"You work for a florist and your name is Poinsettia. You're going to have to forgive me for finding the humor in that."

"No harm. You're one of the few elitist who have a sense of humor," I said. "You got any grapefruit juice?"

"What?"

"You thought I didn't know what rich people drank in the morning. Orange juice is too plebeian. And I know you got the good stuff."

"Is that the proper protocol with your delivery?" His words were soft and a subtle tease. "Do you come into all your customers homes and raid their fridge?"

"When people deliver packages to you do you _not_ graciously offer them some of your finest grapefruit juice because that's just-why the hell are you smiling at me!?"

"You've got to be one of the most unorthodox deliverers I've had the pleasure of meeting."

"Stop with the compliments," I waved him away bashfully. "Next you'll be asking me out."

"I definitely am."

No he wasn't.

"No you're not."

"Absolutely I'm about to right this moment. Now mind you, I wasn't going to do it this soon. I have a tedious process I go through, but you sped it up. You only have yourself to blame." With a quirk of his eyebrow, he took my hand and naturally I drifted into his web of charm. I trembled with enthusiasm. What would he do next? He looked rough. Rough and hard and danger twinkled in his eyes. This was why he had the famous stereotype of being a playboy. A Raggedy Anne didn't stand a chance against a G.I Joe. "So here we are. Have dinner with me."


	4. Interrogation

Sorry for the very late update. Life got in the way. I hope this chapter makes up for the hiatus. Next chappie is definitely Joker. No worries.

Thank you for reading.

Interrogation

"I didn't know it would taste this good."

"I told you to close your eyes and try it."

"It's bigger than what I thought."

"Impressive, right?"

"So fat and juicy."

"Oh, you like that don't you?"

I had to suppress my laughter. I was having fun with this tongue in cheek conversation, but decided to give it a rest when I caught a hint of Bruce's sly gaze. The apples of my cheeks rose up into a smile that I couldn't stop and I sat my fork down to return his stare.

"Why are you looking at me like that for?"

"Like what?" he asked.

And now his smile mimicked mine. Leaning against the table separating us, I deepen our gaze. "Like you want me."

His expression didn't change. Probably because he had so much experience with women that I, who had very little experience, was no challenge to him. Even though I may have been a little green in the love department, I still knew when a man wanted to have his way with me. And his gaze screamed lewd thoughts.

"Is there a reason as to why I _shouldn't_ want you?"

"Careful, Master Bruce," I said, pinching at the title his butler called him. It only made his smile broaden. "If I tell you my secrets, you've gotta tell me yours."

The champagne swirled in its flute before making its way between his parted lips. We were docked on the Liberty river, sitting at a table on the edge of his private yacht. It was only him, myself, the most expensive meal I'd ever had in my life, and the stars twinkling above us.

"Me wanting you isn't a secret, Posie, because you know I want you. Me wanting to slide your panties to the side isn't a secret because you know I want you." He reached over and placed his hand on top of mine. "But the secret is, why do you want me."

I flinched at the double edge of his words. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck one by one raise like pine needles. I wanted him for his heart at first, and as much as I hated to admit it, I wanted his body. On top of mine.

"Careful now, Miss Helms," he whispered like a deadly secret. "Your pulse is racing. But I'm surprised because you lied so effortlessly in my home."

"What do you mean?"

He flipped over my hand, exposing the underside of my forearm. His grip on my hand tightened while his thumb dug into my radial artery.

"Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump." He mimicked the sound of my pulse. "One hundred and twenty beats per minute."

I frowned, saddened by the sudden turn of events. "Is it me, or has the sexual tension become just stupid regular tension?"

"So I researched that anal retentive boss you told Alfred about," he said. "She doesn't exist. Gotham Blossoms, as credible as it sounds, also doesn't exist. Also when I called the number that was on the side of the van you pulled up in, I got connected to a Burger King."

Every moment that he revealed the inefficiencies in my plan, a delightful rush of adrenaline spiked through me. The soft look in his eyes hardened into steel. That chiseled jaw of his was clenched so tight I thought his teeth would shatter. God, yes, he was getting angry. And if he hurt me even better.

"Did you have it your way?"

"Who the hell are you?"

I blinked. "Poinsettia Helms?"

"I'm going to ask you again nicely. Who are you?"

"I am oxygen and carbon and hydrogen and nitrogen and calcium and phosphorus and just a _splash,_ Bruce, of sulfur," I said, knowing that there were just a few elements that I was missing. "I am Poinsettia Helms. Who are you?"

"Enough with the games. Are you tracking me? Was there something in the flowers?"

"Pollen," I answered with a shrug. I leaned back into my seat and crossed my left leg over my right. "I'm gonna be honest with you, Bruce, the only secret that I'm keeping from you is that I want you in the same way you wanted me earlier."

"I'm going to sleep with you." Bruce said so matter-of-factly that it sounded like he was reading a name from out of the white pages. "But it won't be until you tell me who you are and what it is you really want."

"Do you really want to know?"

"Would I have questioned you this long if I didn't."

I got up, sauntering over to Bruce's side of the table. I positioned my mouth by his ear and he kept his focus on his balled hands resting on his lap.

"My name is Poinsettia Helms. Really I wouldn't lie to you." I pushed the hair away from his ear so there was no mistaking whether he heard me. "And I want your heart."

I tried to walk away but Bruce stole my wrist, preventing me from leaving his gravitational pull. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going on the dock to get a chili cheese dog, because I didn't get a chance to finish my duck." I wrestled from him and left his orbit. "And Bruce," I said, flashing him a smile as I gave him once last glance over my shoulder. "On our next date, don't ruin the sexual tension with your paranoia."


End file.
